


Challenge #6: Jacket

by UndeservingHero



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeservingHero/pseuds/UndeservingHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cold and snow blow through the whip-thin mage and make him remember why he doesn't want to go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge #6: Jacket

**Author's Note:**

> Hero: This is part of a drabble series that never got finished so I thought I’d post them here as a collection. Enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: CLAMP owns Tsubasa.

It was cold. Well, cooler. But we'd been on a hot world for two weeks so it felt cold. We bought coats and Fai bought me a crimson scarf, which I grumbled about but actually liked.

I watched Sakura and Syaoran run around, delighted at the falling snow. I looked over at Fai. He was looking far away. The smile was gone from his porcelain face. I nudged him with my shoulder. "What's wrong, mage?"

He looked over at me and didn't seem to recognize me for a moment. The confusion and sadness written on his features alarmed me. Then he focused on my face. The smile came back, a bit more strained than usual. "Nothing, Kuro-tan. I was just thinking."

I sighed. Was I ever going to get a straight answer out of him? Probably not. "About what?" I mentally kicked myself for asking. But to my surprise, he answered.

"Home. Well, my world. It was never really home," he said with sadness in his voice. I was surprised that he was talking of Celes. At all.

It hurt me to say the next words, but I managed to get them over my lips. "Want to talk about it?"

He looked at the children. "The snow, it reminds me. The memories are strongest when I'm surrounded by the snow." His voice was hollow. I hated to admit it, but I worried about the stupid mage. I laid a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward me. His voice wasn't the only thing that was hollow. His eyes were dull. I unzipped my jacket and pulled him to me, wrapping us both in it. I hoped that the warmth from my body would fight off whatever frostbitten memory was troubling him. He just stood still for a long time with the side of his face pressed against my shoulder. Like the heat, mobility seeped into him slowly. His hands rose to my hips first, then to my sides, smoothing across my ribs to my back. He clutched my sweater in his hands, holding on for dear life. I watched the children as I squeezed him. Wetness soaked through to my shoulder. A long time ago, someone once told me that sometimes it's okay to cry.

In the beginning, if you had told me that I would be standing in the snow, comforting the silly, whip-thin mage, I probably would have lopped off their head. Now, though? Now, it seemed like the only thing I could do, the only thing I could control.

I pulled him a little tighter, realizing that I needed a little comfort myself. I cared more than I'd planned to, but when dealing with mages, I've learned that nothing really is what it seems.


End file.
